


Memories

by NotPitifulChildrenAnymore



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Child Neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPitifulChildrenAnymore/pseuds/NotPitifulChildrenAnymore
Summary: An exploration into the childhoods over the squad, and how it impacted them throughout the yearsHint: none of it is very goodExcept for Michaels: his moms love him very much and are very supportive thank you very much
Kudos: 9





	1. Chloe

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was largely inspired by personal headcannons
> 
> T.W  
> Child Abuse  
> Death  
> Alcoholism

For Chloe, it was at six years old

She knew her mommy had been upset all day, and she didn’t understand why her questions were being met with her mommy’s angry glare rather than her dad's easy explanations. She recognized the bottle that mommy pulled out of the cabinet once they got home from that… place (Aunt Linda had called it a graveyard) and locked herself in her room once she saw her mommy begin to open it. She was being a good girl just like daddy always told her- staying out of mommy’s way. She didn’t like what whatever was in that bottle did to mommy- it made her mean and Chloe heard mommy yell a lot at daddy whenever she drank it, followed by a sound Chloe knew from all the times mommy did it to her- the blunt force of a hand connecting with someones face. She tried to come out of her playroom when she heard it but daddy would always take her back right away. Besides- she knew that mommy would end up doing the same thing to her if she tried to help and then daddy would get upset. He didn’t deserve to get upset, so she did what she was told. It was easier said than done, especially since she wanted nothing more than to just help. But every time she tried to place herself in front of the two to deflect her mom's attention it never seemed to help. All it got her was another sharp slap.

She knew that daddy had told her many times that she should always come to him if she needed anything, but she couldn’t seem to find him anywhere no matter how hard she searched. She tried everywhere, not ready to lose that guiding force yet. She lost hope when her questions were met with sympathetic gazes and comforting words, nobody seemed to have an answer for her. A few times she’d been met with tearful smiles or sniffles, which startled her. Daddy liked to make everyone laugh, it didn’t seem right that they were crying instead. So she reached out to give a hug, which she knew Daddy did to make her feel better. She stopped when she tried it with mommy and got shoved away instead. Aunt Linda just gave her a sad smile, pulling her close and whispering to her what a sweet girl she was. That made her happy, but it confused her too. It seemed to work on everyone but her mommy. Her mommy didn’t want her comfort- and Chloe wished she knew what would make her happy. Maybe then mommy would begin to be nice to her again, and sit and braid her hair the way she used to. It would be a while before Chloe would realise what her mom really preferred for comfort instead. 

She knew her daddy would have an answer for her, be able to explain away her mommys shaking hands, so unsteady until they finally connected with Chloe’s face, leaving her crying more so from pain then shock. It didn’t surprise her anymore- but it seemed to hurt worse with each one. Anybody approaching her made her weary, though it took a while to identify the feeling. She learned the system when she realized it was something he’d never be able to explain in that voice that seemed to make the world make sense- it never did any good to cry, just seemed to irritate her mother even more and bring that stinging sensation back as her mother went in for a repeat. She remembered her daddy’s advice when it came to that- mommy was just upset. But that was when whatever was in her cup was doing it. This was different, not spurred on by something else influencing her decisions. It was the first thing she had to learn for herself, how to fend for herself and answer her own questions. 

She knew there were things she couldn’t ask for. Visiting the place her aunt Linda said daddy was resting- none of her aunts and uncles would take her and her mommy had slapped her the first time she asked. The idea of her daddy resting somewhere she never saw bothered her, Chloe couldn’t understand why he didn’t just come home and sleep in his own bed. She could see it with her own eyes every time she passed mommy’s room the first couple times she’d tried to seek out comfort. She learned fairly quickly not to ask for that again- unless she felt like asking for mommy to get upset again. Those were her mommy’s words- her teacher had told them all about words they shouldn’t use, and the actual response had included more of those than anything else. The harsh words had scared Chloe, but she understood the gist of what her mother said if she didn’t know the words. There was no use asking for her mommy to take away the nightmares. Slowly but surely Chloe began to hear her mother's high, piercing voice in more than just life. Everytime she fell asleep she could hear it- proof that dreams could mirror reality.

She knew there were things she couldn't mention. Her daddy’s name seemed to get mommy upset, and Chloe didn’t want to get her upset. So she never asked for memories as she got older- years of conditioning had taught her not to ask. She learned not to mention that night that mommy had yelled that it was Chloe’s fault her daddy was dead- it made no sense anyway. He was resting- Aunt Linda had said so herself. Her mommy used a lot of big words Chloe had dragged a dictionary out for- though she couldn’t find a good chunk of them for some reason. She remembered what had happened when Dustin in her class had told the teacher his mommy was mean to him- a bunch of serious looking people came into the class to talk to him. Even though she’d giggled about it with Brooke (she’d never seen so many adults in suits in one place) it terrified her. She didn’t trust them the way she trusted her daddy, like when he said everything was going to be alright. She knew that’s what they’d say- the same way she knew deep down they were lying. Besides, she was just fine. She didn’t need anyone else.

She knew there was no point in looking for comfort from anyone but herself. It was a hard taught lesson, formed over many years of accusations and abuse.


	2. Brooke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T.W.  
> Child neglect  
> Affairs  
> Cheating

For Brooke, it was at 7

She was glad her mommy wasn’t mean the way Chloe’s was- she knew it was bad when she told her mommy about some of Chloe’s stories (it seemed like a fantasy until the first time she’d seen it happen up close) and her mommy’s eyebrow did that thing it always did when she was worried. Her mommy was nice and helpful. It was years later she learned it was compensation, her mom trying to take on another role to fill the void Brooke’s father had left behind. Brooke never had a nickname for her father- he’d never bothered to specify what he wanted his oldest daughter to call him. It wasn’t like he was around much to ever be referred to by any of them anyway (Just Brooke and her mom at the time until her siblings joined the mix.) Occasionally she’d overhear her mommy on the phone with him, whispering something she couldn’t make out. But she didn’t question it, mommy always came back from these phone calls with a smile that seemed to say everything was okay. So she chose to believe it was. After all, her mommy wouldn’t lie to her. Her dad would, but that was okay. She learned that there were certain people she couldn’t trust, and he’d long since established himself as one of those people.

She was glad whenever he came home, excited for whatever scraps of attention he’d toss her way before heading up to his office for the night. She didn’t expect more from him, lowering her expectations to the lowest possible. It was harder to be disappointed that way-by fulfilling her barest minimum her father rose to the occasion in her young eyes. She couldn’t deny the disappointment as career days passed and everyone's mommys and daddys came into class and spoke about their jobs. She’d came up to make a speech herself- her dad had brought her along to work before and she was sure that she could describe it and do it justice. He was fascinating to her- mysterious, unknown. He could be anything, and the limits were endless. She was proud of him, so she got herself up onto the podium and began to speak. She described his office as she saw it, a place where magic happens behind closed doors. Where transformations begin, and everything felt like it could be something else. It excused the many hours daddy spent there, she herself would have loved to be there forever. She especially adored his secretary Catherine, young and full of energy. 

She was glad when her dad announced that he had news regarding his job. She figured it was something that would bring a smile to mommys face, something that would make everything feel okay at the dinner table, not buzzing with something Brooke couldn’t identify. That excitement turned into confusion when he barely glanced her way and demanded she go up to her room. That startled her, mommy only told her to go up to her room when she was in trouble and coming from her dad it was strange and foregin, with so many possible reasons behind it. She wanted to cry, to demand an explanation. But dad had always told her big girls don’t cry, and she wanted to please him. If something was wrong she knew she could do the big girl thing, and not add on to the problem. When she came back downstairs, her mommy was sitting there with her head in her hands, surrounded by pieces of broken glass. Yet when Brooke went over to her, she lifted her head to look at Brooke with a smile. Brooke didn’t realize it was a smile as broken as the vase that had accompanied her dad's escape from the house. Her mommy carried her upstairs, checked her over to make sure she didn’t get any glass in her hands, and everything seemed okay.

She was glad when she came off the school bus, and noticed an envelope addressed to her in the formal, raised font of her dad's signature. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not since he’d come by the house the day after his big announcement about his job, grabbing things from his office. She’d waved to him cheerfully as he drove off, sure he’d be back. He always came back. Her mom was at work, so she dropped her bookbag at the door, waving hello to her older brother as she ran up to her room. She struggled through the words, able to make out that it had to do with her dad and Catherine. She didn’t want mommy to get upset about it in case it was something bad, so she had her brother read it to her. In the simplest words, it offered her an explanation for his absence. All she understood was that apparently she shouldn’t like Catherine anymore, and that her daddy had done a bad thing. It made her feel uneasy. He may have been an unknown quantity but never someone to be disliked or someone who made people upset. He was far gone, not interested in explaining, She heard harsh whispers, accusing him of things Brooke couldn’t stand to hear. As she got older, she learned that it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in explaining. He just never thought he had anything to explain. He did whatever he wanted when he wanted, and he knew she’d go along with what he said, championing him endlessly with the mindless devotion of a young child.

She was glad when he sent her an invite to his and Catherine's new house. She still believed in him, and refused to accept what others said. He’d make it right- restore his perfect standing in the world. He could make everyone see what she saw, and make everything okay again. She’d come home with good news for her mommy, and be able to make mommy smile. She sat on the step- ignoring her siblings' varying looks of skepticism and anger as they watched her through the window. She was too young to realize what a cliche it truly was, as she squinted hopefully into the road for signs of a black limo (he’d said to look out for one in his invitation) carrying… she didn’t know. But the only car that passed was Chloe’s aunts, dropping her off. They sat together, waiting together. She knew Chloe understood why she wanted that chance with her dad. As that same car peeled up to the curb, taking Chloe with it she knew had to admit defeat. But it was well past midnight, with stars littering the night sky that she finally went in.

She was glad to have her mothers comfort, but she knew he’d left a hole. In her heart, and indirectly in her psyche as she forgave boyfriend after boyfriend out of a sheer hope that she could prove people changed, losing hope and trust with each one.


	3. Christine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T.W.  
> Implied child abuse

For Christine, it was at ten

She hated the strange looks that surrounded her from every direction. Hate wasn’t something people would associate with Christine, but she knew it well. It was better than the pity, or so she tried to convince herself. But no matter how many times she tried to explain, her family just wouldn’t get it. Every family dinner was spent with the same old lecture, her mothers disapproving stare boring holes into her in a silent insistence Christine just sit through it. She had seen it enough times in her life to get good at recognizing it. She started to see it everywhere, in smiles that don’t quite reach a person's eyes, in conversations that cut short far before she’d realize what’s happened and why. She never gave up, but it became discouraging. Especially as the transition from a childlike naivety to an almost adult like understanding came on, an understanding not only of yourself but everyone around you. She’d always known there was something about her that made her mother glance over to her with an almost otherworldly weariness but never got what. When she finally did, she realized it wasn’t something she could fix with a good test grade, or meticulously kept room that it took her hours on end to get right. It wasn’t her fault, her room held so many attention grabbing things that could keep her attention for hours on end. It didn’t take long for her mother to inform her that wasn’t the case for everyone.

She hated that it took their reputation on the line to finally convince her parents to have her seek help. She hated that she could never seem to keep her focus on one thing, and that her teacher had sent her to the principal's office for getting up out of her seat when she had tried to explain she really couldn’t sit any longer. She couldn’t control how her body felt or what caused it to happen any more than she could control the tapping of her fingers against whatever surface she could find. Her mother didn’t seem to care when Christine told her it had brought her physical pain to keep sitting there. No- what she cared about was the principal's pointed suggestion of a different class, one he told her would help. That just wasn’t going to happen, and so arrangements were made. Her grandmother would talk, her mother insisted, and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if it was just to spare herself the embarrassment, Christine was grateful all the same. She didn’t think she could handle another speech about how if she just went to the church and prayed a bit harder, she could become “normal” just like her cousins and siblings. Her father didn’t put up a fight (never did from what she could remember) and it was done. A week later she found herself sitting in an office with her mother, only half listening to a long winded story her mother was regaling the therapist with. New environments were always the worst, so many things that could capture her eye. She was surprised her mother didn’t mention it, but she picked up on her mothers oddly victorious smile on the ride home, like she was about to be given what she always wanted.

She hated that her father could be so weak at times. If he cared, he never showed it. The supportive smiles meant nothing when he sat there silently as her grandmother began preaching about how whatever was going on with her could be helped along with prayers and a good beating. He could see how scared she got when her mother looked in her direction following this spiel, an almost calculating look that made Christine sure that she was seriously considering it. The way she’d come home, shoving her report card in her bag and running around frantic to hide it. He wouldn’t even look up from his book, or try to interject when his wife came home and started on Christine about the teacher's comments. Her grades weren’t horrible, but her teachers seemed to all say the same thing. She had potential, just never was able to hone in on it completely. Her glowing marks from her drama teacher went ignored, that bright light in a stormy sky. Christine had cut it from the rest of her report card and kept it tucked away in her drawer where it couldn’t be commented on. She knew her mother would manage to make it out to be a bad thing, putting a dapper on the one thing she let herself be proud about.

She hated that her family had warped her perception of so many things that had brought her so much comfort. Thankfully her love for theater had never gotten commented on by them, but she figured she was allowed to keep it a secret from them. She deserved to at least have something for herself, they’d ruined everything else. Her favorite teacher had recommended audiobooks in lieu of physical books, and it blew her mind. So simple, and she really enjoyed the books, without the added pressure of trying to sit down and focus on a book. But when her cousins found her headphones and broke them, she had to go to her mother and explain what she used them for. She didn’t want to face the looks of disapproval and pointed suggestions that she head to the library and grab a regular book, so she tried to keep to her room when she listened to them. But the scenery got boring after a while, and she abandoned them shortly after. She took up reading Shakespeare for the challenge of it, having to focus on the meaning behind the words seemed to bring out something in her. It was hard, but she was determined to achieve it and with her teachers' help she did it. She’d tried a fidget spinner, but quickly learned to keep that one to herself when she’d brought it out at the dinner table and gotten it smacked out of her hands. Theater seemed like the only thing left that never seemed to change.

She hated that she couldn’t seem to find the same sort of centeredness in religion that her family seemed to. But after so many years of hearing it preached by her grandmother in a vaguely threatening manner, she could never bring herself to feel the same way all of the rest of her family did about it. She’d never felt that connection to a higher power, and never understood the hushed reverence surrounding it. She still laughed about the look of surprise when she’d announced in the middle of a heated discussion with the squad over holiday traditions that she was an atheist. They were the only ones she’d ever spoken about it out loud with, her family had nearly gone into a mutiny the first time her mother mentioned the therapist, much less this. She wondered how they’d react if they knew about the prescription her mother went to pick up the day after that visit. It was almost comical, the way she’d glanced around the entire pharmacy as she waited for the pharmacist to grab the prescription. Adderall, though Christine didn’t bother to learn the name of it until she got a bit older. All she knew was that it was meant to help, but really just made her completely out of it for the rest of the day. So she perfected a fake smile, learning to act like all was well in front of her family.

She hated that her first ever lesson in acting was so hard taught, but a girl’s gotta learn somehow. She just never realized it would mean nobody would be able to tell just how not fine she was, and how badly it could hurt.


	4. Jake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4th one...
> 
> I'll be honest. When I began this I didn't expect to get so attached to it, but wow. I may go back and add on to Chloe's chapter but other then that I'm shockingly happy with how this story is coming along
> 
> I was thinking of doing the final chapter with the squip squad together, and possibly doing another thing like this but within the events after canon? Comment down below and let me know what you think!

For Jake, it was at 15

He expected a lot of things- from himself and from others. Why shouldn’t he? He knew he was capable of great things, even when those things didn’t quite match up with what others expected. He expected things from himself because he knew if he didn’t nobody else would. Pretty boy, jock, player… he’d heard it all. Lovely words of encouragement for a boy just trying to make something of himself- but already people were setting their predictions for his future. Nobody cared about the science test he’d run home to hang up on the fridge, a big bold hundred visible at the top of the paper. No- what they cared about was his athletic skill, and what it could mean for him. Bright kid, all the team moms would inevitably mention sympathetically wherever they’d glance over at him, but a broken home. It wasn’t broken he wanted to insist- but he knew better. As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, he knew that there was a reason he hung up his own work on the fridge. A reason why he was always left waiting far until the coach had long since stopped trying to hide the fact he was glancing down at his watch, clearly relieved when Jake walked himself home under the guise of having found a ride.

He expected to come home to a note from his parents telling him that they’d headed out on another business trip, typically in his mothers sloping cursive. The first time had been accompanied by another little note, telling him she loved him and that the freezer would be full. The times after that it became increasingly curt, informing him not to wait up, and not to get in touch. He told himself that learning to cook would be his long term science experiment- it is a science and an art after all. Granted- he probably wouldn’t win Master Chef towards the beginning, but still. It began simply, with him making and wrapping up his own sandwiches to bring to practice. He heard the whispers, speculation from who must be doing it for him since his mom was away. Brooke had been ready to go over there and tell them off, but Jake just shrugged it off. It was his own little secret- and in an odd sort of way it made him feel connected to his parents. They had secrets too- ones that he didn’t bother to press on about or question. It wasn’t like they were there often enough for Jake to sit them down and ask them. It evolved into full blown meals, yet once the novelty and excitement of creating something came to pass the simple truth settled that he didn't have anyone to share it with. A lonely truth for someone who was constantly surrounded by people at school, but a truth all the same.

He expected his popularity- but not what would come of it. It felt almost like a self fulfilling prophecy, everyone around him had predicted it. It was just a matter of time. It seemed innocent enough to anyone else- what did it really mean? So he never sat alone at lunch, and couldn’t pass down the hallways without bumping into someone he knew. Didn’t seem like anything too dramatic or drastic. But still, it would be within time. Every time he went onto the basketball court to take his turn, he felt everyone's eyes on him, like he’d just confirmed their every prediction, making him exactly what they said about him. Especially after one game, when Chloe had dragged him under the bleachers after a team victory. He was a jock dating a cheerleader- that was all any of them needed to know. They didn’t need to know that she came from a home broken like his, or that it was both of their first kisses. They didn't need to know that there was a deeper reason why the both chose their respective sports. She knew as well as him that sometimes the pressure of the spotlight was better than whatever laid waiting at home. They’d headed down to the pizzeria afterward to celebrate, and he decided popularity wasn’t too bad. His best friend was also his girlfriend, and he was happy. He hadn’t expected the tight constraints his popularity brought, any more than he expected to be dragged away by one of his teammates every time he tried to start up a conversation with that one kid he noticed sitting on the bleachers, staring intently up at him. Rich, Jake thought his name was.

He expected the surprised look on each of his teachers' faces every time he raised his hand during class. It didn’t make it any easier- but it wasn’t exactly surprising. He reveled in the time he could set aside when he got home, cranking up his music and losing himself in the worksheets that he spent hours on. Each problem had a simple solution, an answer that could be found if you just asked. Secrets had answers too- dark, twisted ones that could be pulled out from the core and leave you shattered. Those were dangerously intoxicating, pulling you in with promises of allure and relief and leaving you with more questions than you had before. It was a strange sort of fixation to have, but Jake knew that if he couldn’t get answers to the secrets others in his life held he may as well content himself with answers he could find. Even something as simple of the value of x felt like a secret that could be pried out with enough work put into it. He’d pushed himself to learn, even thought it would have been easier to fall into what everyone expected of him. Which was to say not much. But still, expectations can be a tricky thing. He knew that.

He expected his parents would eventually leave someday. From a young age he’d trained himself in the art of a poker face every time he opened the door. The few times he’d find someone there he’d gotten a less than warm reception, so he tried not to show that he cared. After all, he was pretty sure they saw him as an unnecessary attachment, and any attempts to get closer to them nearly always ended with them pushing away. Maybe it had to do with their business, or that they just weren’t naturally affectionate people. It was always strange to Jake, the way that his parents were so aloof and yet all he wanted was affection. It made him weak, his mother liked to say as she watched him smile down at his phone, telling Chloe and Brooke about what had happened. Outright affection just made you vulnerable, which was never good. She knew from experience, though she’d never admit it out loud. The night that they’d run for good, leaving behind one last note, he had considered that advice. He’d been vulnerable, and for what? A few seconds of attention- and they’d left anyways. They always did.

He expected things, but as time went on he began to give up on it- expectations are no match for secrets in the end. Especially when the person you love loves their secrets a little more then they love you.


End file.
